


Kiss My Axe

by camerasparring



Series: Lumberjack Richie [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beard Burn, Blowjobs, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Coming Untouched, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Discussion of coming out and forestry and NOT eating mushrooms, Eddie is Desperate and Richie is nothing but helpful, Face-Fucking, First Time, Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming, Smut, Snowballing, Suspender Sex, Top Richie Tozier, sex against a door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: The first thing Eddie does when he gets back to the hotel is laugh hysterically. Alone. For several minutes.Then he showers the dirt off his dick.Then he drafts a text to Bev.So I met someone and we kinda hit it off and I may have jerked him off in the woods. Oh, also I think he’s a lumberjack?--Or: the Lumberjack Richie sequel we all need.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Lumberjack Richie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690642
Comments: 125
Kudos: 604





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [davehotrod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/davehotrod/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, this will be only two chapters (I think?) and I'm hoping the second will be out soon.
> 
> Thanks to my LJR crew, you know who you are! And thank you to all of you!
> 
> If you haven't read the first part that's probably okay, all you need to know is that Eddie and Richie met in the woods while Eddie was hiking and Eddie kinda... jumped him. But the first part is also super short!

The first thing Eddie does when he gets back to the hotel is laugh hysterically. Alone. For several minutes.

Then he showers the dirt off his dick. 

Then thoroughly cleans the, uh, _rest_ of him. You know, just in case. 

Then he drafts a text to Bev. 

_So I met someone and we kinda hit it off and I may have jerked him off in the woods. Oh, also I think he’s a lumberjack?_

At the last minute he adds Mike. He does not want to have to say this twice. He can always mute the chat and come back to it all at once later. After his _date_.

He hits send before he even reads it back. There’s no need. And no better way to say it. 

It’s almost six, so he’s going to be here soon. And then Eddie will have to confront the reality of actually _dating_ someone. Or, well, going on a date. Attempting to date. 

How early is too early to consider yourself “dating?” Is that something he should ask Richie? Eddie’s not used to these games. 

Oh god, he hasn’t been on a date in more than ten years. At least not with anyone _new_. Eddie and Myra used to go on little date nights, but they mostly ended with heartburn and desperate apologies about yet-again-delayed sex due to said heartburn. 

A grating ring sounds in the room, and Eddie throws himself at the ancient rotary phone just as he sees Bev’s response come in: _Wait. You’re kidding, right_? 

Goddamn it. 

Eddie presses the receiver to his ear and resolves to deal with it later. He has far too much to be anxious about besides the reactions of his friends. 

“Hello?”

“Mr. Kaspbrak?”

“Yes.”

“You have a visitor at the front desk, sir,” the woman tells him, and Eddie almost gasps in return. 

“Oh, uh. I’ll be right down, thank you so much.” 

As soon as he hangs up, he laughs again. And again and again. 

He stands up, straightens his shirt, and heads for the door. 

Here goes nothing.

*

Eddie’s vision is spinning, so he takes the stairs down to the lobby slowly. There’s only three rooms on the second floor of this place, and honestly, he’s only seen about three people _total_ since checking in. The owner chatted his ear off when he got here almost two weeks ago, and it turns out their summer busy season pretty much floats them through the rest of the year, since most of it is tourist business from the annual (and _very_ local) film festival in July. 

Eddie appreciates the seclusion. It’s what he was looking for when he booked the trip, and he hasn’t been disappointed. 

When he turns the corner, there’s a tall, broad body facing away from him, standing right in the middle of the outdated lobby. Scuffing his feet along the orange and brown carpet. Wearing a clean, crisp purple plaid shirt, tight black dress (ish) pants, and a shinier pair of black boots than earlier today. 

In the woods. Where Eddie attacked him. 

_Richie_ , he thinks. Even in his own head, Eddie sounds like a love-sick teenager.

Then Richie turns around and catches Eddie’s eye. A big, delighted grin spreads over his face, curving the lines of his beard so Eddie can see his pink lips shining through. His eyes pop in the purple, Eddie didn’t even know that was possible, but Richie seems to defy a lot of Eddie’s previous expectations about human beauty. And there’s also the… _suspenders_. 

They span the length of his chest, a straight black line over dark lavender and looped onto his belt. 

Eddie wants to grab them. Pull them back, snap them against Richie’s chest. His big, hairy, broad chest with flexed pecs that add literal _inches_ to his overall width, and then Eddie thinks about his long, smooth, beautiful-

“Hey, Eds,” Richie says, still several feet away, since Eddie stopped dead in the large, wooden archway leading to the front desk. 

“Uh,” Eddie responds gracefully. 

Richie blushes. Eddie flares with something like anger that he suspects is actually just lust. He’s just not _used_ to this. He’s never set eyes on someone and wanted to jump their bones. Or, perhaps, just one bone. Eddie’s already seen it. He knows what he’ll find if he presses himself against Richie right now, runs his hands down to his fly, unbuttons his pants and strips off the suspenders until Richie turns to putty beneath him. God, he’d love to be over him. On top of him. Straddling him. Kissing at his chest hair. Oh _god_ he needs to get his mouth on Richie’s chest, he didn’t even think of that. 

Instead he just stands. And stares. And maybe drools? He can’t really feel his face. 

Richie waves a hand between them, pacing closer hesitantly. 

“Ed- Eddie? Are you okay?” 

Eddie scans the room. “Uh,” he says again. 

“Did I, I mean,” Richie looks up at the clock on the wall, then pulls a phone out from his back pocket, his forearms flexing with the motion, “I’m not… early, right? We agreed on six?”

Eddie’s stuck on a broken-brain-loop of suspenders and hair and lips and wet and _thrust_ and it’s devolving quickly, but he doesn’t want Richie to _leave_ … is he going to leave if Eddie’s suddenly lost the power of speech?? 

“Eddie,” Richie says again, face fully fallen. He looks _upset_. Or sad, or… is that mad? Eddie doesn’t know this guy. Oh my god, he barely knows this guy and all he wants is to be absolutely taken apart by him. He wants to take Richie apart. 

_Do that_ , Eddie thinks. 

“I’m- I’m, listen,” Eddie starts, pointing up toward the staircase, “do you wanna- I think I forgot something in my room that I- I need it for dinner and-”

Eddie licks his lips. Stares as Richie looks around the room, presumably for someone who can save him from the idiot bumbling nonsense at him.

“Do you wanna come up real quick?” 

Eddie considers booking it back upstairs as soon as it’s out of his mouth. He can lock himself in his room for the rest of his trip and just forget this ever happened, right? He’s done weirder things than convince himself of a fever dream, like marrying a woman when he suspected he was gay, or take a job in insurance when he has medical anxiety so severe he frequently spent his twenties hovering outside emergency rooms: too afraid to go in, too afraid to leave and worry any longer. 

But then that smile is back. Richie’s. Richie’s fucking _smile_ and all the air leaves Eddie in a rush.

 _Oh_. 

“Yeah, y-yeah, let’s go up to your room,” Richie tells him, leaning toward him, hands reaching out, and Eddie shifts backward just in case he explodes on impact. 

“It’s up here,” Eddie says for some god forsaken reason, heading up the stairs with Richie trailing close behind. 

“I assumed that, yes,” Richie laughs. Eddie presses a hand to the wall when his knees go fucking weak. 

Eddie leads Richie to his door in a daze, avoiding a glance back lest Richie has somehow taken his shirt off, or become more dazzlingly handsome, or maybe just disappeared altogether: all options would take Eddie the fuck out, so he keeps his eye on the prize and works on digging his key out of his pocket. 

He swings the door open and gestures for Richie to walk in first, momentary panic at the state of his room before he remembers he always keeps things impeccably clean. It stresses him out to come home from a long day of hiking to a messy room. Home? Eddie supposes this is home, now. For now. Just for now. 

“Nice digs,” Richie says, nodding at the scantly-decorated room. Eddie’s surprised at how casual he seems. He’s probably used to this. Guys jumping all over him all the time when he looks like that. When he absolutely exudes a sexy male archetype, chopping trees in the wilderness, waiting around for lonely men like Eddie to snap him up for a short-lived night of passion. 

Eddie rubs at the spot Richie sucked onto his neck earlier, against a tree, hand around his fucking _dick_ , and burns with desperation. Richie watches him, silence lingering between them. Eddie almost offers him a tour, but walking inside the room kind of… covers it. 

Then Richie blinks long eyelashes, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, strains his chest in his shirt, and Eddie loses it. 

“I-” he says as he’s rushing toward Richie mouth first, and Richie meets him where he’s at, tonguing against his teeth immediately, and Eddie moans again, easy, easy, _easy_ with it. Richie shoves their faces together so Eddie can feel the sting of his beard. 

It’s fucking _hot_. 

Eddie’s suddenly pressed up against the door, big, strong body holding him tight in a line to the wood. It might as well be the fucking tree again. But this time they’re alone, _really_ alone, shut up in a private room with no neighbors and Richie’s hands are clean and roaming and Eddie wants everything all at once. 

“Eddie,” Richie gasps into their kiss. Eddie whimpers. How is hearing his own _name_ already ruining him? 

“I can’t-”

Richie jerks his head back at the sound. “Mmwha?” 

“I just- keep kissing me,” Eddie mumbles, pulling tighter from where his sweaty fingers are wrapped around Richie’s neck.

Richie laughs, low and rumbly, so Eddie lays a hand over his chest just to feel it, and Richie stops short of following his direction. 

“You okay?” he asks, and Eddie’s heart lurches. He nods, sneaking a tongue out to lick at Richie’s bottom lip. He tastes so _good_. Like rough, dark need. Eddie’s never felt like this. 

“Yeah, yeah, I just-” he stops to suck in some air, already light-headed, and palms around Richie’s hip bone, “I’m just a little overwhelmed.” 

Concern flashes over Richie’s face, so Eddie leans up to kiss softly at the divet above his mouth. It gets him a smile. Eddie smiles back. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really fucking cute,” Richie says gently. He smooths hands over Eddie’s chest, down to his stomach, then back up to cup around his neck.

Eddie sputters a laugh. “I am most definitely taking that the wrong way.” 

“Nooo,” Richie whispers into his mouth, pecking a few times before facing him again. Eddie tries to calm his heart. It’s pretty difficult with a gorgeous man holding him against a door, angling for butterfly kisses. 

“You’re the first, uh, guy. I’ve been with,” Eddie says, though he’s not sure where it comes from. He specifically told himself not to let that one slip. But Richie’s staring at him so genuinely, kissing him so sweetly, it just seems… right? 

Richie doesn’t jerk back like Eddie expects. His eyes go soft. Softer. Somehow. He draws a line over the side of Eddie’s neck. Crowds him a little closer to the door.

“Really?” 

Eddie sighs. “Yeah.”

“Wow, I really wouldn’t have-”

“We can stop if it’s weird, I’m sorry-”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Richie mutters, locking his fingers at the back of Eddie’s neck, “I don’t want to stop unless you do. Just say the word and we’ll go to dinner, Eds.” 

Eddie huffs. “How did you- I mean, my friends call me Eds but I didn’t-”

“Guess we’re fast friends then, huh?” 

Eddie eyes him from an inch away. Richie’s hands pet over him. It helps. 

“Are you always this charming?” he asks, and it gets him another deep rumble of a laugh. Pressed this tight together, Eddie can _feel_ it. It’s nothing short of enchanting. Eddie feels like a Disney princess. Heart eyes and all. Richie runs a finger down the curve of Eddie’s jaw. 

“Only with the _very_ cute boys.” His eyes go a little hard when he moves in, tracing the line of Eddie’s bottom lip with his tongue.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Eddie groans before forcing their mouths together again, suddenly half-hard and aching for it. Well, maybe not so suddenly. He’s been aching for it since he saw those fucking suspenders. Speaking of which-

“Ow, _Jesus_!” Richie yelps when they snap against his chest. The thick fabric of the flannel restricts a lot of Eddie’s view, but he’s pretty sure he caught the beginnings of a jiggle. God, to have that chest under him. He’d give anything. But right now he’s pretty sure he wants to get railed against this door. 

Eddie dives deep into Richie’s mouth once more before pushing away and whirling around. His cheek hits the cold of the door and he arches his back so his ass fits perfectly into Richie’s lap. 

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. His hands roam the expands of Eddie’s back, fisting into his shirt, and suddenly the temperature seems to have risen about a thousand degrees. 

Eddie works at unbuckling his pants. He needs this _now_.

“Finger me,” he says, slamming his eyes shut in embarrassment. He’s never been this fucking forward. He’s never been _fingered_ by anyone but himself, but he needs it. He fucking _needs_ it. He wants Richie’s long, gorgeous fingers inside of him. He wants Richie’s fingers everywhere: in his ass, around his neck, in his mouth, oh _god_ , he’d love to shove Richie’s fingers in his mouth, see how many he can take while Richie fucks him good. 

“Yes _please_ ,” Richie groans, then stutters something Eddie can’t quite make out. 

“I’m- I have lube in the bathroom, hold on-”

“ _No_ ,” Richie says, holding tight around his hips. Eddie hears a shuffle, then realizes Richie is dropping to his knees.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, oh fuck,” Eddie gasps when Richie spreads him open. A thumb presses at him for a second before he hears Richie _spit_ and feels the subsequent wetness covering his hole. 

“You okay with this? I know it’s your first time-”

“Please, _please_ , oh fuck, please,” Eddie rambles. God, he’s so fucking desperate.

Richie tongues over his hole eagerly, palms full of Eddie’s ass, and goes the fuck to _work_. Eddie’s not sure what Richie gets up to out in the woods, but it may as well be eating ass with how well he’s fucking his tongue into Eddie like he’s starving.

And then there’s the _beard_. Eddie’s not sure he’ll thank himself tomorrow, or maybe even later tonight: he does have to sit in a mildly-fancy restaurant and pretend like he’s not wobbling from beard burn and being destroyed by Richie’s tongue, but then again he’s not entirely sure they’re even making it to dinner tonight. He might make Richie do this all night. 

Eddie’s never done this either, either side of it, but it’s his new favorite thing.

For now.

Richie groans and moans and pulls away to slurp and press at him with fingers, the lube unnecessary under his sloppy machinations. Eddie writhes against the door, gripping hard at the doorknob for some sort of purchase. It’s for his sanity more than anything, since Richie is pinning him with big hands, skin on skin, heated all the way through. 

Eddie reaches down to palm at his cock, beginning to leak in absent desperation, when Richie mumbles something into him.

“Can I fuck you?” he says again, if that’s what he said, and Eddie changes his mind.

“You fucking _better_.”

Richie thunks what Eddie assumes is his forehead to the small of his back.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he says, his fingers coming up to slot in where his tongue is neglecting. Eddie pushes back into it. He wants to be filled up, fucked out, at Richie’s mercy. 

“We can slow- we can slow down,” Eddie gasps, though he’s not sure what he would do if Richie stopped right now. Luckily, Richie moves to stand, then pushes a finger inside him. 

“No way, cutie,” he whispers into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie tries to arch, tries to take Richie’s long fingers deeper, but Richie controls everything like some sort of master of the woods. He pumps in fast, matching it with heaving, damp panting against Eddie’s neck and back until he uses his clean hand to grab at Eddie’s jaw and turn him into a filthy kiss. Just as their tongues touch, Richie adds another thick finger to the push. 

“ _Agh_.”

“Y’okay?” 

Eddie nods, biting Richie’s lip. “Yeah, fuck yeah, it’s good.” Fuck, he can _taste_ himself on Richie’s tongue. 

“You take it so fucking well.” 

“ _Shit_ ,” Eddie groans as Richie speeds up, “wish you could put your whole fucking hand in me.” 

“Oh my god, Eddie.” 

“Want you,” Eddie whispers. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and he knows _he’s_ being too much, saying too much. There’s no way it’s not too much when everything is so soon. They literally just met today and Eddie is already talking about taking Richie’s entire _hand_ inside him. But Richie starts to rut against the back of Eddie’s thigh in answer, and it’s only then that Eddie realizes Richie is still fully clothed. 

Fucking missed opportunity. He’s going to have to make up for it later.

Richie whines, nipping his teeth over the top of Eddie’s spine.

“I’d love to say my own spit is enough but I think we’re gonna need lube soon if you want my dick in you,” Richie says, nudging a third finger into Eddie’s wanting hole. 

Eddie almost melts into the door. 

“I want it, god, please, I want it.” 

He’s pathetic. 

“You’ll get it, baby, just tell me where to find the lube and condom,” Richie tells him, shushing into his skin. He’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot Eddie might die here, in Canada, in this almost-abandoned hotel, under Richie’s hands and tongue and sweet, soft words. 

“It’s, uh,” Eddie pulls his tongue hard in his mouth, gathering enough saliva to talk and put his brain back together to remember where he threw the bag of XL condoms he bought at the tiny convenience store down the street. The teller eyed him the whole time, but he stared straight ahead and focused on the image of Richie’s giant cock slipping through his own equally-giant fingers. 

“Oh, wait, I think I see the bag,” Richie says, pulling away. Eddie lurches into the door as soon as he’s empty. 

“Hurry.”

Richie laughs from across the room, flying into the bathroom to fling open the door under the sink and grab the bottle of lube. He’s so smart. Smart and hot and hairy and- 

“You really want it, don’t you?” 

Eddie groans. Richie’s fingers are back in him. On him. All around him. He must have more than two hands - there’s no way one person can be this thorough. Eddie pushes away the insecurity of being a fucking _gay virgin_ when Richie is so clearly experienced. He’s probably done this hundreds of times. He’s probably fucked someone against a door before, who knows? Eddie wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Mmmf, yes,” Eddie gasps as Richie starts rubbing his now-sheathed dick over his dripping hole. The bottle of lube is loud when Richie pours some onto him, cold and slippery, but then Richie is pushing in, and Eddie is pinned back against the door with a punched-out breath. 

It’s a _lot_. Richie is big. Eddie knew that, he _knows_ it now. There’s definitely a difference between holding something in your hand and it entering you, but Eddie is so fucking desperate he pushes back as soon as he gathers enough wits about him. 

“ _Eddie_ ,” Richie says, hands on Eddie’s hips, spreading Eddie open on his gorgeous cock. Eddie imagines how it must look, breaching his rim, red and hard and long, extending from the collection of wiry hair gathering at Richie’s crotch. 

“Give it to me.”

“Yeah, oh my god, you take it so well,” Richie groans again. Eddie groans back. It just feels so fucking _good_. He thought it would hurt. He’s heard it would hurt. But this feels like nothing but… perfection. 

“You’re gonna give me a big head,” Eddie giggles, and Richie sweeps a hand over his back. Eddie didn’t even realize he’d taken his shirt off. When the fuck did that even happen? He’s lost his damn mind. Dick drunk. Is this what dick does to him? He’s willing to give up a lifetime of intelligence and high IQ tests and professional success just to have this dick fuck the smarts out of him. All day every day. 

“Oh, you bet, baby,” Richie growls.

Then he starts to move. 

Eddie’s mouth waters at the smooth slide. In and out, back and forth, so perfect and mindless in its rocking motion that Eddie forgets his own erection and tries to focus on the way Richie’s hips are bruising his ass with how fast he’s slapping inside. Eddie takes it, _he takes it so good_.

“That’s _so_ , fuck, fuck, _Richie_ -”

“Is it good?” 

Eddie shudders a laugh. Presses his hand to the door to keep upright, even though he knows Richie has him. 

“It’s- I’m- _Richie_.”

“Fuck, let me-” 

Richie reaches around to wrap a big hand around Eddie’s cock, stroking slowly despite the desperate pounding of their hips together. Eddie feels like he’s losing it, it feels so fucking good, he’s _never_ felt this good in his life. Richie’s taking such good care of him and he’s not used to it. Not used to falling apart, not used to being out of control but also so in touch with his body that he feels fucking _alive_. 

Richie makes him feel alive. 

Richie’s beard scrapes heavy all across the breadth of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie pushes back into it. Pushes back into Richie’s cock, too, heavy inside him. 

“Ah, _ah_ , ah, Eddie,” Richie’s groaning when Eddie starts to feel a distinct tingling stinging at his abdomen. He’s almost there. He’s going to blow all over the fucking door. 

Suddenly Richie’s hand grips hard around Eddie’s hip, pulling out and turning him around. Eddie is boneless, all but for his cock, so he goes easy. 

“I wanna kiss you when I come,” Richie says. Eddie’s vision is hazy, so he nods. Lets Richie scoop big hands under his thighs and lift him against the door. 

After that, everything becomes about Richie. 

Richie’s pants pooled around his ankles. Richie’s flannel pushed all around his chest, gaping open onto his undershirt so Eddie can squeeze at his pecs. Richie’s strong (god he’s so _fucking_ strong) arms lifting Eddie up to fuck him against the door. Richie panting into his mouth, licking along the insides of his teeth, whining deep into his throat as they slam into each other. 

Eddie’s about to pass out, he’s sure of it - a strong, huge, hairy man is all pressed up against him, literally _holding him up_ against a door as he fucks the life out of him, and the world is tilting a little fuzzy, but then Richie kisses him _hard_ , tongue swiping a wet, rough line against his own, and Eddie considers that tongue being _inside_ him as Richie’s cock works him from the inside out, and he comes completely untouched between them.

Richie fucks the come out of him, literally, banging his ass solidly against the wood of the door as he ruins Richie’s shirt, and then Richie is groaning too, whining desperately into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie reaches up to fist a hand into the back of Richie’s hair to bring them even closer together. He wants to stay here forever, sweating into each other, licking into each other, fused together everywhere they can be.

It feels so fucking right. And they just met. 

No matter how strong Richie is, Eddie’s spent the last few months building up muscle to hike all day, so he eventually gets too heavy for even Richie to hold. Richie lets him slide slowly down the door to his feet. They’re wobbly, but Richie’s arms are still wrapped around him, so they split the difference together. They kiss - kiss until Eddie can’t feel the tips of his fingers and until he forgets about the aching in his back from where he’s been slammed against the door. Richie breaks away with a sated moan.

“Eddie,” is all he says. 

Eddie shuts his eyes against the rush of feelings. And then against the humiliation.

They literally _just_ met. It’s bad enough that Eddie jumped Richie in the woods, but then he invited him to an actual _date_ to get to know him and did the same thing as soon as he arrived.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie answers. Richie glares, red-faced and sweaty.

“What- what the fuck are you _apologizing_ for?” 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to make this all about sex,” Eddie sighs, putting full weight on his legs as Richie pulls back further, “I really did want to get to the ‘date’ portion of this whole thing.” 

Something flashes across Richie’s eyes, but then he laughs. “Yeah, yeah, me too.” 

Eddie twirls a finger through the exposed line of hair above Richie’s shirt. It’s then that he notices the line of drying come all across the buttons, flapping carelessly at Richie’s side.

“Holy shit, I totally ruined your shirt,” he says, making the final move out of Richie’s grip to run to the bathroom. Wetting a washcloth in the sink, he ignores the softening cock hanging between Richie’s legs, newly unsheathed by the condom Richie must have already thrown away, and scrubs at the whitening spot on Richie’s shirt. 

“Don’t, it’s-” Richie snorts, stopping Eddie’s frantic hand, “maybe I can just borrow one of yours?” 

Eddie stares at this dresser.

Everything he owns is _way_ too small for Richie’s big, broad-

Oh god. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Eddie wants it bad, and dammit, he will get it!
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring)!
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked and you're able!


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back to feed you, here you go friends, please enjoy. This will probably (most definitely) not be my last foray into Lumberjack Richie, our gc has come up with some truly sweet (and very dirty) ideas for their future and I am loathe to not let them live their hairy, sexy dreams.

Richie eagerly accepts one of Eddie’s shirts, despite it being, in his own words, “about three sizes too small.” Eddie balks, but… he has to admit it’s true. Especially when Richie appears from the bathroom looking like a Great Dane stuffed into a shirt made for a Daschund - one of those bullshit outfits enthusiastic dog owners put on their pets to give them personality. Or maybe to keep them warm, who the fuck knows. Eddie’s never really been a dog person, though he did consider getting a cat before he left for Canada.

Maybe when he returns.

If he returns. 

In any case, Richie pulls the suspenders up over the pink fabric to hide some of the stretch, and retrieves a coat from his car, and that, like, makes it _appropriate_ , at least. 

They make it to the small restaurant only fifteen minutes late, which Eddie feels bad about, but accepts, considering he only gave himself half an hour lead time. Then he dragged Richie up to his room and fucked him against a door. Something else he feels bad about.

Actually, Eddie doesn’t feel _bad_ about it. He feels _fucking awful_ about it. 

He considers cancelling the date altogether on the grounds that he doesn’t deserve it. But every time he mentions it, every time he hints to Richie that he could do better, or deserves better, or when he apologizes for being so forward, Richie just winks. He fucking _winks_ , and does something lovely like patting Eddie on the back, or the shoulder, or, right as they’re walking into the restaurant, leaning down and pecking him on the cheek, so Eddie starts to actually believe he’s not mad. 

Thankfully the hostess politely ignores the flaring flush on Eddie’s face and leads them to their table.

The place is a touch on the nose, but Eddie can’t complain when half the reason he picked this town in British Columbia was for the ambiance. It’s log-cabin-themed, every single surface carved in dark wood and smelling of musty pine. There are mounted (but fake?) deer and bears and mountain goats and some other sort of horned animal lining the walls. Eddie grimaces as they finally sit at a small table for two. There’s a candle in the middle, and a red plaid table-cloth draped over what Eddie assumes is more wood. 

It matches the shirt Richie was wearing when they met. 

“Did you book this table on purpose?” Richie asks, glaring around at the other tables, which, decidedly, are devoid of plaid. Eddie wiggles in his seat. 

“God, _no_ , is this really fucking cheesy or what?” Eddie whispers once the hostess is out of earshot. Richie jerks back, fingers dancing through the flame in front of them. 

“Eddie. My family owns this restaurant.” 

Eddie’s head hits the red plaid table and yep - that’s wood, alright. He’s hoping for a bruise. Right in the middle of his forehead. It’s but a fraction of what he deserves. 

“I’m fucking- oh my god,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut, balling his fists, feeling the tears burning, and then he hears Richie… laugh. Or snort? What the-

“Dude, tell me you’re not that fucking gullible, are you serious?” Richie asks, pressing at Eddie’s shoulder to lift him up. God, he’s _strong_. 

_Shut the fuck up, you horny bastard_ , Eddie scolds himself. 

“Are you-”

“You picked this place, man, why the fuck wouldn’t I- you know what? Nevermind, I can see you actually feel bad about this,” Richie says, his eyes glowing in the warm light of the candle. The whole place is a bit dim, crowded with tacky, northern decor and hanging chandeliers that don’t do much to actually light the place. But he can see Richie. He can see _all_ of Richie. 

Eddie sighs. “I’ve pretty much been feeling bad since the moment we met.”

Richie’s face plummets like a dying star. Eddie wants to face plant back onto the table, but instead reaches out in desperation to grab Richie’s hand where it’s laying against the lumberjack tablecloth. 

“No, no, _fuck_ , I am just- it’s not- not about _you_ , I really-”

“Eddie,” Richie cuts him off, fingers squeezing. 

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. He is so fucking bad at talking. At expressing his damn feelings. Years and years of shoving it all down, of listening to his mother, of listening to his _wife_. Years of settling into a life where he can argue and talk and emote all he wants to literally no reaction. And it’s completely messed up how the words actually come out.

He looks up to see Richie staring at him, soft, just like in the woods, just like in his hotel, just like in the parking lot, when he kissed him on the cheek. It’s… comforting. 

“I’m so, so bad at this,” Eddie huffs. That about sums it up, so hey, why not be honest? What does he have to lose at this point? Perhaps just the sweetest, hottest person he’s ever met in his life.

Richie just laughs. Just laughs and laughs and laughs until Eddie has no choice but to crack. They laugh together, bellowing, doubled over at their table, broken apart so fully that when their waiter arrives neither of them have done much other than wipe away tears and tangle their fingers together. 

“I’ll- uh. I’ll come back,” the waiter says, which makes them laugh more. 

Once Richie’s coming around to catching his breath, their hands are still clutched. Resting between them. Richie rubs a thumb over the hair on Eddie’s own. It sends a shiver up his spine. 

“I feel like something about me is spooking you,” Richie says quietly. Eddie coughs out one final chuckle. 

“It’s not you.”

Richie squints.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe it’s you a little bit.” 

Richie nods. “Thought so.” Eddie smiles as his brain starts to ease away from the panic. He takes a beat to consider. Richie lets him. 

“I’ve never, uh. I got divorced. About, like, six months ago now? I just moved out of our house before I came out here, and this is the first time I’ve really gone on a date.” A long, cold wave of fear sweeps over him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I really don’t go on many dates myself,” Richie says, teeth grinning through his lips. Eddie shakes his head.

“Are you fucking kidding?”

The light in Richie’s eyes flicker again. It’s the same look he had in the hotel, right before they left. Eddie has a feeling he may have read something wrong. 

“No, I- okay, you ready for this? You’re about to feel _real_ bad for good ol’ Lumberjack Richie,” Richie says. Eddie scoffs.

“I thought you _weren’t_ a lumberjack.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Eds, I went into logging at the age of thirty, of course I wanna be mistaken for a lumberjack.” 

“I see, the misunderstanding comes with perks.” Eddie shakes at his hand. They still haven’t let go. Eddie hopes they never do - although the waiter is bound to be back sometime. Richie ducks his head. 

“Kind of the opposite, actually,” Richie says, “except for you, cutie.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?” 

Richie finally pulls his hand away to rub nervously at his thighs over his jeans. Eddie tries to ignore the way it stretches the fabric of Richie’s shirt - his nipples have been visible since they sat down, and Eddie would give anything to latch his mouth over them. But that’s the problem. _Listen, listen, listen_. 

“Once I started dating guys, they kinda took the whole… ‘masculine lumberjack’ thing into overdrive,” he says, eyes jumping across the room to the massive boar head, “At first it was fucking exciting, especially since I came out so late.”

Eddie’s heart jumps in his chest, but he lets Richie keep talking. 

“But then I realized these guys were barely looking me in the eye. They kind of assumed I was just this big bear who wanted to fuck them and leave as soon as the sun came up, when really I-”

He shuffles his feet under the table. Eddie tries not to tumble through the surface of the earth. 

“I don’t know, fuck, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, it’s a fucking first date,” Richie says, waving a hand in the air until Eddie’s able to catch it. He plants it right in the middle, both of them together, back where they belong.

“Shut up, keep going,” Eddie tells him. Richie stares down at their hands. Back up at Eddie’s face. Around at the restaurant. 

At first Eddie is worried he’s gone too far - are they just dancing around each other in a flurry of misunderstandings? But then Richie smiles again. He’s always fucking smiling. And it lights up the whole damn room. 

“You are such a,” Richie stops, balling up his other fist against the table, “I kinda figured you were different.” 

Eddie’s face jumps. “Different? Kinda sounds like I’m just like all the fucking idiots who took you for granted.” 

“ _No_ ,” Richie says quick, licking his lips, leaning forward, “no, I don’t think you are.” 

Eddie wants to tell him to fuck off. That he’s wrong. That Eddie jumped him in the woods without a fucking care in the world just to get his rocks off, without knowing who he really was as a person. But there’s been something between them all day - something other than lust. Eddie knows himself. He’s never done anything like this before, and it makes him think: maybe it’s not the mid-life crisis. Maybe it’s just Richie. 

Or both. Probably both. 

“So,” Eddie starts, shoving all his metaphorical chips into the pot, “how about we order some food and you tell me what you _actually_ do, Mr. Fake Lumberjack?” 

Richie rocks his head back, throat stretching out in a laugh. Richie’s vibrant and gorgeous when Eddie makes him laugh. Eddie wants to keep doing it. Maybe forever. Richie leans back in his chair, letting their hands drag away again. 

“Deal.” 

*

They stay out for most of the night swapping stories. Eddie loses track of time somewhere between the second and third virgin daiquiri Richie orders, not because he’s sober, but because he likes the taste, and wants to ‘get to know Eddie with all his wits about him.’ Eddie feels drunk enough just from the rush of Richie looking him in the eye, so he doubles the order and sucks them down with his Cobb salad. 

Turns out Richie initially went into the entertainment field, which is less surprising the longer he talks. He may honestly be one of the funniest people Eddie’s ever spent time with - besides Bev. Richie moved to LA in his early twenties to pursue acting, or maybe comedy, but grew disillusioned at the superficiality of all the connections he made. For a tall, young, unknowingly-closeted Canadian man, it hurt him in more ways than one. Everything built up until he had something of a mental breakdown at an audition, moved back home, and then picked up a degree in environmentalism and forestry around thirty-two. 

“Something about being out in the woods really released the homosexuality, I s’pose,” Richie snorts into his fourth drink of the evening. Eddie taps at the bone in Richie’s knee from where his hand rests on top of it. They’ve been touching almost constantly since they sat down - something their waiter has avoided commenting on. It’s not like anyone has been weird, but Eddie finds himself anticipating it. It’s like he’s raring to fight before anything even happens. 

“You didn’t know before you came back from LA?” Eddie asks. Richie shrugs, poking a fork at his locally-sourced steak. 

“I knew something was wrong. There was something in me I wasn’t really… getting at, you know?” Richie gnaws at his lip. Eddie knows. He really knows. “I figured it was the career thing. But as soon as I settled into some logging jobs, found my place in the world as far as that went, it was pretty fuckin’ obvious there was something else going on.” 

Eddie feels it swelling deep in his chest. The feeling of being known. He had no idea it was so common to come out later in life. He spent years imagining he was the only one. 

“I know what you mean,” he says simply. It’s like pushing a rock up a hill. Richie just waits. “I mean, fuck, I got married to a woman, ya know?” 

Richie laughs. “Bisexuality does exist, dude.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. He’d considered it. For a long time. But it always felt a bit… off. “I guess that requires a base level attraction to women, though, right?” 

Richie nods slowly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I hear.” 

They press a little closer under the table. 

The logging stories are Eddie’s favorites of the night, no contest. It might be the complete lack of knowledge he has about the inner workings of what Richie does, or the fact that he’s a lonely-hearted American, or maybe even that he’s spent most of his life in New York, but something about the innocence and protectiveness with which Richie speaks about not only his coworkers, but also the wildlife and nature, is inspiring. Eddie’s never met someone this passionate about what they do. 

“You can eat a bunch of shit in the forests, man,” Richie’s saying as the bill is finally dropped. Eddie swipes it before it fully thunks on the table. Richie looks a little put out, but they’ve already reviewed the differences in how much they make, and while it’s a bleeding heart job, Richie isn’t exactly flush. He’s been talking about building his own cabin for years, apparently, but neither of his parents ever had much money, and he hasn’t been able to scrape together enough to get it started. 

Eddie tries not to get ahead of himself, and instead shivers at the implications of eating things you _find_ outside. 

“Please tell me you’re not eating mushrooms,” Eddie says, signing his name under the itemized list of what amounts to around fifteen daquiris.

“No mushrooms, no, not since my wild youth in LA,” Richie says, dragging a hand down the length of his chest, over his nipples, “More like wintergreen berries, or like, baby ferns and shit.” 

“And _shit_ ,” Eddie parrots. Richie winks, then snaps at his own suspenders. 

Eddie jumps. _Fuck_. 

He keeps it together until they’re in the parking lot again. 

The night flew. Eddie can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s had this much fun with someone.

Richie makes him laugh, and teaches him about trees and pulls up pictures of his favorites to show Eddie. He talks and talks and lets Eddie do the same. He walks behind Eddie as they’re cruising across the pavement. Eddie feels safe. Eddie feels… happy. He doesn’t want it to end. 

“So I guess I can’t use the line about wanting to get a look at your hotel room, huh?” Richie says, swinging open the door to his truck as he peels off his jacket. Sweat stains are lumped under his armpits and in jagged lines across his chest and stomach. Eddie’s mouth fills with saliva as he stifles a giggle. And a groan. 

“Uh- no, I guess we’ve already covered that.” 

“Hey, um,” Richie says, squaring his shoulders and looking Eddie in the eye, “I know it’s a drive, but do you wanna see my place?”

“Oh,” Eddie says. Richie takes a step toward him. 

“You can say no. You probably _should_ say no, I can’t really believe we met _today_ , I just feel like we have some sort of dumbass, like, connection? Or something? Oh god, I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m fully-”

Eddie closes the space between them and shoves a hand over Richie’s mouth. His fingers wiggle against the hairs of Richie’s beard. Up close like this, he can see the subtle twinges of gray. Holy shit, he’s so beautiful. His blue-green swirling eyes, his pink cheeks, his mussy head of hair. His voice. His passion. The way he’s at least three inches taller than Eddie, but hunches over while they’re face to face so Eddie can see him. The way he rambles. Just like Eddie. 

“I’d love to see your place,” he says, and then on second thought, and because Richie’s forehead crinkles right in the center, he adds, “And I feel the same way, about the, uh. Thing.” 

He feels Richie’s smile stretch under his hand. 

“Thing?” Richie muffles.

“Yeah, the. Uh, the thing. The, like, _connection_ , or whatever.”

Richie wraps a hand around Eddie’s wrist to free his mouth. His teeth are white against the dark grain of his beard. Eddie wants to kiss him. But he also doesn’t want to keep moving so fast.

“Or whatever,” Richie repeats again, “you’re quite the romantic, Kaspbrak.” Then he leans down, close enough that Eddie feels the tickle of his beard between them. 

“I’m not- I told you I was bad at this,” Eddie says, barely a whisper. Richie licks at his lips, and Eddie can almost _feel_ it. Fuck, he’s a goner. 

“Your tactics have been working so far.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mmm,” Richie hums, pushing down the last centimeter to press their lips together. 

It’s so much softer than all of their other kisses. Gentle and almost hesitant, but Eddie sinks into it. Lets Richie take control. And he does. Wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, rasps wet, rough hair against Eddie’s cheek, lips, chin. 

Their foreheads meet when Richie gently pulls back, rocking their bodies in a smooth line where they’re hovered, alone, illuminated by a single street lamp. 

Eddie closes his eyes and leans into it.

“I’ll follow you there.”

*

Richie’s talking as soon as they’re both out of their cars. 

“I know it’s not much, like I said I’m not making a whole lot right now, and I send some back home to my mom whenever I get the chance, so I-”

“Richie, it looks really sweet,” Eddie tells him. 

It’s a small mobile home - one like Eddie’s mom used to own before she died. He didn’t grow up there, but once he moved out of the house his parents bought, his mother downsized and isolated herself. Eddie spent years in college driving the 300 miles to visit her, crunching over her gravel driveway to pull open the pink-tinted door and accept whatever criticism veiled in love came first. He fucking hated that place. 

This one, Eddie thinks, with a massive, warm feeling of relief, looks much better. More like _Richie_. 

It’s surrounded by trees, varying in sizes but circling the house like they’re protecting it. The grass is sparse and browning, but Richie did spend the better part of twenty minutes telling Eddie what a waste grass is for most ecological environments. Most of the greenery at the front is spiky and untended. The color of the house itself is a flimsy, chipping turquoise, complete with white shutters. A sign swings in the gentle breeze, an unblinking arrow with bulbs spelling out “wild men enter here.” 

As they get closer, Richie extends an arm. Eddie wraps his around it in perhaps the cheesiest dating ritual he’s ever engaged in. It lights him up from the inside. They walk arm in arm up to the door. Eddie gazes up at the sign.

“Doesn’t look like I’m allowed.” 

Richie laughs as he pulls open the door. 

“I’ll make an exception this time, city boy.” 

The inside is somehow greener than the outside. 

“Wow, you, uh, really like plants, huh?” Eddie ducks under the sprawling leaves of one hanging from the ceiling. The place is small, as Eddie expected, but half of it is covered in pots full of dirt. 

“Just a scooch,” Richie replies, heading for the sink and pointing toward the couch a little ways past the kitchen. The bedroom is tucked into the back, along with the bathroom. It’s all familiar. Eddie waits for the nostalgic discomfort to hit him - for something to really spike his memory and force him to flee. Instead his heart beats steady and calm as Richie hands him a glass of water. 

“I think I bored you with enough plant-life talk at dinner, so I’ll save you the tour,” Richie says. Eddie pinches his lips together.

“No, no, I mean, it’s clearly what you love.” 

Richie’s eyes light up. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” His hands clench around the glass. Eddie points over at the shaggiest plant he sees. 

“Don’t be coy, you bastard, why don’t you tell me about that one?” 

Richie throws his head back in a laugh. His hand lands on Eddie’s thigh, gripping hard, and Eddie feels so smug he could rocket off to the moon. 

“Oh, Veronica?” 

“Of fucking course you named her,” Eddie says, feeling bold with Richie’s hand on him, “and you call _me_ cute.” 

Richie’s fingers twitch. Eddie presses forward to kiss at his cheek, quickly before he loses his nerve, and when Richie’s face goes red, Eddie drags him up to his feet to get the real tour. 

Eddie follows Richie around his whole place, listening to variations of plant spiels and explanations. Richie loves to plant seedlings, nurse them to some level of maturity in the safety of his own home, and then transplant them into the forest once they’re ‘ready.’ Eddie doesn’t understand a lot of what he says, and he thinks that might actually be illegal, but it’s all super fucking cute. Eddie loves to listen to Richie talk. 

When they’re both straining through yawns, and the clock strikes one in the morning, Richie stretches and gestures to the bed. 

“I know you’re usually the forward one, but. I think you should stay the night,” he says, and Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck off, you were into it.” 

“Oh, definitely, I just like to make you feel bad,” Richie says, leering, pulling at the give of his suspender, “Taking advantage of my kind, Canadian sensibilities to get a piece of this ass.” 

Eddie pushes at Richie’s chest, then grips around the same suspender. 

“You’ve never had any fucking sense in your life,” Eddie spits, then slams his eyes shut. Fuck, he’s never known when to shut the hell up. 

But Richie’s beaming over at him, slipping out of his suspenders and wiggling his fingers, like he’s mounting an attack. 

“It’s true,” Richie says, his hand slotting over the curve of Eddie’s neck like it already has so many times, “who knows what I might get up to after a good night’s sleep with a gorgeous man in my bed.” 

Eddie sighs into his hold. The bed is certainly big enough - Eddie is already regretting not utilizing his own hotel bed to its full potential, so maybe this can make up for it. Then again, he’s already spinning plans of asking Richie to spend the weekend together. 

He’s fucking lost it. But Richie’s eyes are big and soft and intent and Eddie thinks he’s probably not the only one. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, mind flitting anxiously back to going a night without his meds and his routine and his sleep shorts, and then pushing it all away in favor of how appetizing a night of spooning with a sleepy, pliable Richie will be, “but I’m taking the right side and no fucking arguments from you, plant daddy.” 

Richie groans, dramatically flinging onto the bed. 

“Yeah, baby, call me daddy again.” 

Eddie dive bombs him. 

*

Eddie wakes a few times in the night, mostly because of the change in scenery, but when he comes to himself, he realizes the scenery is an unconscious, mostly-naked Richie in his arms, and promptly falls back asleep. 

The last time his eyes spring open, there’s light peeking through the small curtain-less window. Eddie grumbles and stretches his arms out to grab Richie again. He comes up empty just as he hears the sound of an electric toothbrush from the bathroom. When he twists around, Richie’s standing in the doorway. 

“Mwonin’” Richie mumbles through a foaming mouth, grin wide and eyes shuttered by thick-rimmed black glasses. Eddie squints up at him. 

Ugh, he’s not used to this much sun in the morning. He’s a sleep-mask, black-out curtains kind of bastard.

“Are you- are those glasses?” he asks. Richie spits into the sink, rinses out his mouth and wipes it with a towel before returning. That’s when Eddie sees- “Are those _suspend-_ why the fuck did you get dressed!?” 

Lo and behold, Richie’s put on his pants from last night, complete with the same suspenders, denting lines into his naked chest. Eddie’s heart skips a damn beat. 

“Oh, you think I didn’t see you last night?” Richie says, hooking a thumb under each, back to cheesy grins and easy words. Definitely a fucking morning person. Rude. 

Eddie grimaces. He needs coffee for this. “Huh?”

Richie shifts to kneel on the bed. Eddie flips over onto his side so they’re facing each other, and there’s another discovery - the hard line of Richie in his pants. Eddie wants to mouth over it, but Richie tips a finger under his chin. 

“ _That_ , city boy, that right there.” Richie flicks his eyes down to his own crotch, then back to Eddie’s blank gaze. _Oh_. 

“I’m, uh. You caught me staring?” 

“You’re about as subtle as a house on fire, my dear,” Richie snorts, pulling back the sheet covering Eddie’s naked body, “and about as scorching hot.” 

Eddie shoves a hand over his face to cover the flush. He let Richie goad him into sleeping naked last night, though, really, it took little convincing to have a soft, hairy body all over him all night long. They tangled together nicely. Eddie still feels a little tingly. But that also might be the suspenders. Or the hungry look in Richie’s eyes. 

“Well maybe if you hadn’t gotten dressed you could do something about that,” Eddie tells him, uncovering his reddening face to see Richie slipping onto the ground. Strong hands pull at Eddie’s thighs, manhandling him to the edge of the bed. A self-conscious pang hits him, and is quickly erased by Richie’s blown pupils and roaming hands. 

“Wanted you to have something to hold onto,” Richie says.

Eddie’s cock lies soft yet interested between his legs, so Richie leans down between them to nuzzle at it. 

“ _Oh_.” 

Richie grabs one of Eddie’s hands and puts it on his shoulder, right over the leather. Eddie takes a second to get a clue, then pushes his fingers underneath in a tight grip. 

“There you go,” Richie pants into the skin of his thigh, up into the crook of his pelvis, kissing damp at his stomach, careful not to rub too rough with his beard. He wraps a hand around Eddie’s cock. “This okay?” 

“It’s- yeah, it’s fine, it’s really fucking fine.” Eddie winces. “I’m not used to people wanting me this much.” God, it’s fucking embarrassing to say out loud. But Richie’s eyes go soft again, fingers pumping over Eddie to get him hard. What a professional. 

“Fuck, cutie, I want you bad,” Richie sighs. Eddie clenches half-moons into leather with his nails. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, and Richie nods, and Eddie melts, wants to cry and come before he’s even fully hard, but then Richie sucks at the tip like he’s taste-testing an ice cream cone and Eddie bucks up _hard_. 

“Shit, _yes_ , I spent all night dreaming about this.” 

“You-”

“Want you, Eddie.” Richie traces the vein along the shaft of Eddie’s cock, then slips it slowly against his tongue until he’s engulfed. His eyes hold Eddie in place, his legs splayed out on the carpet, his free hand pulling at Eddie’s hip, then trailing up toward his nipple. When he pinches softly at one, Eddie jerks again. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep doing that,” Richie says as he comes off, already gathering a string of spit, then bobs his head back down and waits. 

Eddie’s gotten few blowjobs in his life, and he’s certainly never fucked anyone’s face. Sure, he’s had his moments of losing control, but Richie seems ready for it. Moreover, he seems _desperate_ for it. So Eddie lifts his hips, just to try it out, and Richie full on _moans_. 

Eddie tries it again, and again, until his ass is pumping consistent circles up into Richie’s throat, over his tongue, forcing little gasps from deep in his chest. Every time Eddie gets nervous, Richie moves away, catches his breath, smirks filthy, rubs himself through his pants and gets back to business. Their give and take is fucking delicious. 

Soon Eddie’s pulling hard at the suspenders as he stutters groans, leaking pre-come against Richie’s tongue like a fountain. Richie’s face is red and sweaty, he gets so sweaty so _easily_ , and it makes Eddie feral. He wants to lick it off, dip his tongue through swatches of it across Richie’s hairy chest. Rub his own come into Richie’s beard. 

Maybe later. Now he’s focused on slipping his cock back and forth through Richie’s lips. 

“Eddie, Eds, fucking come in my mouth,” Richie gasps, tonguing frantically around the head. Eddie fists a hand into the sheets. 

“I, uh, _Richie_ ,” Eddie hisses as Richie licks over the slit, “should- is that okay?”

“It’s been a long time for me, I’m clean, you’re free and clear after your divorce, I’m literally asking you, why the fuck not?” 

Eddie gulps and nods, because he’s _right_ and Eddie _wants_ to, can’t deny it’s what he’s been thinking for the past ten minutes, how badly he wants to come down Richie’s throat and watch him swallow it all, god he’s so fucking _into_ it and Eddie wants to give him everything he wants. 

“Do it, c’mon, want it,” Richie moans before gobbling him down. The slick, tight heat and the rough whining and the give of leather in his hand knocks Eddie out flat, and he’s coming less than a minute after Richie’s mouth descends on him. 

“Fuck, fuck, Richie, _oh_.”

He tires himself out thrusting his hips, ass held firmly in Richie’s hand, cupping and pushing, egging him on as he swallows every drop Eddie gives him. Eddie’s mind is blowing apart into shreds, so he scratches a hand through Richie’s chest hair, just wanting to feel it, wanting to feel _him_ , and Richie lifts himself up to tongue inside Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie almost cringes when he realizes Richie’s tongue is absolutely coated, but Richie is back to touching him, gripping around his neck, again, again, again, and Eddie’s lost in the way Richie wants so badly to share everything with him. It’s absurd and filthy and Eddie wants to take it. Wants to show Richie he wants him, too. So he drags a straight line down Richie’s tongue to clean up the excess, and it swabs come and spit into his own mouth.

Richie’s beard is a stinging rasp at all times, the corners of his lips wet with fluid, so Eddie’s tongue is sloppy. He humps up at Richie’s chest, smearing his wet cock against Richie’s nipples, then pulls at his suspenders until they separate.

Eddie can taste himself. He smells nothing but sex and hair, he’s fucking losing his mind in a haze of lust and come. Richie waggles his eyebrows, still somehow spinning some brain cells through that noggin, and snaps his suspenders until his whole chest rocks in waves. Eddie surges forward to lick into his bellybutton. Richie tangles fingers at the back of his head. 

“Let me lie down,” Richie says, wiping over his shiny lips, “the suspenders plan was two fold.” 

Eddie moves over so Richie can spread eagle on the bed, unbuttoning his pants in one swift movement. Maybe it’s the phenomenal blowjob, but Eddie swears he’s getting hard again. Or maybe he never _stopped_. If this is a mid-life crisis, Eddie’ll take uncontrollable horniness over a dumbass convertible any day. 

“You want me to ride you?” 

Richie nods, fisting over his hard dick. Eddie tips down to give it a lick before chancing his wobbly legs into the bathroom. 

“Under the sink, cutie,” Richie yells after him. 

Eddie straddles him as soon as he’s back, clothed thighs under his naked ones, and honestly, it’s pretty fucking hot. 

“You gonna keep calling me that?” Eddie slicks himself up quick and reaches back to finger himself. Richie plants hands on his hips, dick sticking straight out from his fly. 

“You bet,” Richie answers. Eddie sighs as he breaches himself. Richie watches raptly for far too long, until Eddie gets impatient and forces one of his thick fingers in alongside two of his own. He wants this done fast. He needs Richie to fuck him into tomorrow. 

“I’m ready, I’m fucking ready,” Eddie gasps as he’s bouncing with determination, and Richie’s eyes go wide.

“Are you-”

Eddie snaps a suspender. Very handy. 

“Fuck, okay, _okay_ , I’ll go slow,” Richie says, grabbing at the condom and forcing it on with shaky hands. As if he wasn’t the mastermind here.

Eddie kinda likes that they’re clearly on the same page. He wonders if Richie would have jumped him in the woods eventually, had he not gone full tongue-first within a whole sixty seconds. It’s useless to think about, really, but he likes the way Richie wants him, and so soon. He feels the same way. He feels way too _much_. 

Once Richie’s ready, things seem to move in hyper-speed. 

Eddie shifts to line up, takes a suspender in each hand, sinks down, breathes out. It’s different than the first time - he feels every single inch, but it doesn’t hurt. And even if it did, he thinks he could zone out on the look in Richie’s eyes instead. 

The way Richie bucks under him. The way the long column of Richie’s throat stretches. The way Richie’s skin blushes under his beard, all over his chest, all the way down to his cock, probably, thrusting deep inside Eddie’s hole.

Every time Eddie stops using the leather straps to help him along his ride, he thumbs across Richie’s nipples just to hear him moan. He’s sensitive, that’s clear, so after the third time, Eddie blankets their bodies together and swirls a tongue around one. Richie whines, high and tight, so Eddie shoves some fingers into his mouth to tide him over. His teeth clamp gently and Eddie gasps. 

“Fucking dick.”

“You love it,” Richie grunts around his thumb. 

“I really fuckin’ do, _oh_ , oh fuck, right there.”

“Yeah, baby, you gonna come again?” Richie asks, even as he’s fisting Eddie’s hard cock, passing a greedy pad of his finger over the leaking slit. Eddie’s definitely going to come again, Richie’s working him so well from inside, so he nods and forces himself down harder, and that does it. 

“Rich- oh god, _Richie_ , I’m fucking-”

“Do it, come all over me,” Richie grunts, jerking him hard.

Eddie does. He comes _hard_ , spilling all over Richie’s chest, and the sight of come and hair almost kills him, and then Richie pulls a hand from his hip to rub it in frantic circles all over himself. Up to his nipple, down to his bellybutton-

“Holy sh- shit, holy shit, Richie.”

“I’m gonna- can I-”

“Yes, yes, come in me, c’mon,” Eddie says, kicking up the speed of his hips as best he can through the haze of his second orgasm of the day. It must work, because Richie’s eyes roll back into his head as he absolutely hammers Eddie’s ass with a few more thrusts. 

Eddie throws his hands back to hold onto Richie’s thighs, firm muscle between his fingers. It’s so hot. He’s so hot. Eddie- he-

“Richie,” Eddie breathes, too overwhelmed with it all, with the force of feeling and affection and it’s too ridiculously quick to think _anything_ , so he keeps his dumb mouth shut and buries his face in Richie’s heaving neck and groans. Richie’s big arms come up to wrap around him. 

“I can’t, jesus, fuck, Eddie,” he muffles into Eddie’s damp hair. 

“I know,” Eddie agrees. 

“How is it-”

“I don’t know.” 

Richie huffs. Eddie feels it tickle his ear. They’re both quiet while they catch their breath. Eddie sucks the air in deep, reveling in Richie’s scent. He reaches up to scratch fingers through Richie’s beard, then remembers the glasses. 

“So… glasses?” he asks. Richie licks at his drying lips. 

“Hah, yeah.” He adjusts them on his face. “I actually prefer them, but it feels safer to wear contacts on the job.” 

Eddie hums. “I like you either way.” 

If Eddie weren’t so close, he probably wouldn’t hear Richie’s breath catch, quiet in his chest. But Eddie is. And he does. And he instantly regrets it. But then Richie smiles. 

“I like you too, cutie.” 

Eddie slaps at Richie’s chest, but he loves it. He really- god, he _loves_ it. He rests his head against Richie’s chest, tucking right under his chin and catching glimpse of the forest outside Richie’s little window. It’s not a particularly sunny day, but beams shine through where they can find purchase. He listens to the steadying beat of Richie’s heart and closes his eyes. 

“How long are you here?” Richie says after a few minutes of contented silence. Eddie pops his head back up. 

“Not sure.” He traces a small circle around Richie’s nipple. “Didn’t really get a ticket back.” 

“Oh?”

Eddie meets Richie’s eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“Oh,” Richie says, again, a little firmer. The edge of his mouth flinches. Eddie can see the beginnings of a smile. 

“That okay?” 

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s been carved out and filled back up in the span of Richie’s pause, and he’s not sure why. But maybe he knows. Maybe he’s known since they met. 

Richie nods. 

So Eddie stays. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me typing without thinking: "I love y-"  
> me snapping out of it: NO JADE NO IT'S BEEN ONE DAY
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring)!
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked and you're able!


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